


Vanished Marvels Gathered Deep As A Secret

by Go0se



Series: Origin Story [3]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate POV, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Minor Character Death, Nonbinary Show Pony (Danger Days)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21903970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Go0se/pseuds/Go0se
Summary: The curly-haired roadbaby was in the company of the Fabulous crew when she and Show Pony met for the third time. Pony could truthfully say they hadn't expected that.
Relationships: Dr. Death Defying/Show Pony (Danger Days), Fun Ghoul & Jet Star & Kobra Kid & Motorbaby & Party Poison (Danger Days), Motorbaby | Grace & Show Pony (Danger Days)
Series: Origin Story [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/551422
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Vanished Marvels Gathered Deep As A Secret

**Author's Note:**

> It's just past the dead center of winter here, so what better than a desert story! For clarity, this is a POV-flipped version of the 'Grace meets Show Pony again' scene in chapter 7 of my fic ['The Edges'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8053543/). I found this buried in my notes folder a couple days ago and still like pretty well. It might be confusing without that background.  
> Title is from 'Adventures In Solitude' by New Pornographers, in the style of AFYCSO titles because I can.  
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> -

Show Pony was leaning against the wall of the techno-shack, refixing their ponytail every so often and cleaning grit from between their skates’ wheels, when the Fabulous crew rolled up.

They’d been expecting the killjoys. Jet Star had radioed in a couple hours or so before, saying he and his crew would arrive that day— with a motorbaby in tow. Both Show Pony and Doctor Death-Defying had been surprised to hear that bit of info. Rumour had been that the Fabulous ones had picked up a dust angel recently, but rumours lied more often than not. Didi had tried to ask more but Jet had shut the line before the radio pirate DJ could get a word in sideways.  
Now, Show Pony knew better than most that breaks in the signal needed happening sometimes, with the static the way it was, but it could also signify a trap being set, especially after a bomb drop like that. Sometimes what you heard wasn't always what you got, after all. So the good Doctor had sent Pony outside with a kiss for luck. They’d be his ears and his eyes in case the killjoys-- or whoever showed-- had any surprises. And his gun, if it came to that. Hopefully it wouldn’t have to.

Seemed like no worries were needed. The Fabulous Trans Am skidded to a stop between the dunes, music blaring through speakers and open windows, painted spider on the hood dripping with dead bugs, by all appearances alive and kicking.  
Pony relaxed just a mite. Then they pushed themself off the wall and skated over to the loud-ass mess.

The words, “You’re fucking late,” were on their lips, but they didn’t get to say it. Soon as they’d stopped in front of the car, one of the doors opened and a small body all wrapped in dusty white tumbled out onto the sand. They landed feet-first and hurriedly knocked shut the door behind them.  
They looked up at Show Pony. The eyes, through the cloud of curly sun-brown hair, were brown and opened wide but not exactly surprised.

Pony blinked as the face clicked into place their brain. “You,” they said, realizing. Gladness glowed in their chest; it’d been a tick since they’d kept track of this kid, and here she was, apparently living well.

The little girl nodded, still staring. She hadn't moved or introduced herself. That wasn’t a surprise. She'd never told Pony her name the first time they’d met, either; way back when they’d first seen her and her sister, right outside this squat of a tech-hole.  
Though now, they noted, she wasn’t a sprout. She’d grown a bit taller, a fair bit browner-skinned and twitchier than she had been. A pretty purple headkerchief was looped around her neck, and a zapper hung read from her belt.

Almost on her way to being a regular little junk punk. Pony smiled instinctively, leaning down as much as they could on their skates so she could look at their face without craning her neck too bad. “So _you’re_ the honey-child Jet went on about,” they said. “I was wondering. How've you been, motorbaby?”

The girl shrugged. She took a small step toward Pony, and then kind of hovered, either not sure of herself or too freaked to get closer. “They didn’t tell me we were coming to see _you,_ ” she said, almost like she was pointing a finger at them.

“No shit? I’m surprised too,” Pony replied, trying to click pieces together in their head as quick as they could. She must be talking about the fab four in the car behind her. “Maybe the crew didn't know you knew me.” It sure as hell didn’t occur to them, personally, to tell allied starshines what-all every Runner they found on the road looked like. Though granted most runners they brought in from the dust wore adult shoes. “What _did_ they say you were here to see?” They asked curious.

She was quiet and motionless for a second, then put her arms in her pockets, looking at Pony through her bangs again. They were getting tossed around by the wind; it’d been wickeder than wicked that day. “The doctor,” she said finally _._

Ah. A lot of people came to see Didi, for a lot of reasons; sometimes when they needed answers. “That would be my friend,” they said, nodding. “Think I told you about him--”

“I remember,” the girl cut them off. She tried to wipe her hair out of her face, but was mostly failing.

“Milkshake,” Pony said. That was good; she still has at least that far back. A lot of deadeye-born kids lost time out in the dust just from the shock of it all. “I'm sure he'll be psyched to meet you. Mini-my’s are always welcome in our place,” they told her gently.

The girl nodded. Her mouth crinkled up into a little baby-bird smile, like she hadn’t realized she was doing it. “I remember,” she repeated. Then, unexpectedly, she darted forward and threw squeezing arms around Pony's middle, pressing the side of her face to their chest.

Pony froze at first, instinct compelling them to reach for their blaster at the sudden movement, but then they got enough of their brain going to hug the youngling back.

  
Not that they could for long. Pony heard a car door open and slam closed.  
It was clear the kid had, too: quick as a flash, the sugarhead’s sudden affection outburst let go, and she’d unwrapped her scrawny little arms from around them. Obligingly, they stepped back too. She tried to smile up at them, but the expression couldn’t quite stay on her face, too washed over by the hurt and fear and loss that was written over it bright as road signs.

Just as Pony thought that she might say something, her eyes caught onto the wall of the WKIL shack behind their shoulder, and got round as full moons. Without another word, she scurried over to the techno-shack, pressing on the wall and looking up at it like it was some precious thing.

Pony stared after her, so intently trying to sort out all their thoughts that they almost didn't register the sound of runner footsteps coming up close behind them. Almost.  
“You know her?”  
Show Pony swivelled on their wheels and stuck their hand on their hip sharply. “Do I look like I'm in the habit of hugging younglings I _don't_ know, starshine?”  
"Jewel,” The Fabulous killjoy’s leader corrected, sticking out her own hip and flipping a hand through her juice-red hair a bit too campily to be serious. It’d gotten to be a joke a long time ago that the two of them try to out-queen each other on sight, and the Fabulous crew’s leader always went hard, though on Jewel days she went just a little harder.  
Pony felt like laughing in recognition, but there was a real thing to be talking about right then. They dropped their hand and tone, standing straight-foot again. “Jewel, sweethead. Do I look the type of sandrunner to wrangle roadgoblins unfamiliar t’ me? Yeah I know the kid.”  
“From _when_ ?” Jet Star asked incredulously, stepping up behind Jewel.  
The three other Fabulous killjoys had gotten out of the car, and were now aligning into standing attack formation. All of them had their masks on-- they’d drove across the whole inner-Zone stretch, that made sense. Blasters accounted for. They looked a bit rumpled around the edges, like something’d gone down wherever they had been before they’d showed up here.

That’d be why they’d called in so fast. Show Pony pushed that aside for later. Right now, they brushed back their bangs and narrowed their eyes. “Don’t appreciate the tone,” they said icily. “You're so tetchy about it, why'd you wait to come out? We could've been through this and inside by now.”  
It was maybe unneeded, but it was part of a messenger’s work. Never give a direct answer under pressure. Not to nobody—except Didi, for Show Pony, of course.

Maybe recognizing his mistake, Jet took off his mask and held it in his hands, looking at Show Pony head on. “Didn’t mean demanding. Just, she was hugging you,” he said plaintively. “Right after meeting you. But she's been running with us for weeks and hasn't so much as punched an arm mostly. She only started _talking_ a couple days ago.”

Pony paused. Weeks would be a pretty lonely time for a little thing. Damn. Alright. “... pretty far back now,” they answered Jet Star. “First time, maybe a year ago? The two of them showed up just outside here. So green they were almost grayscale.”

“Two?” Kobra asked, squinting in confusion.

Show Pony nodded. “Yeah, ‘course. Little Hope. When I was trying to give them some help, girly over there wouldn’t even let go of her hand 'til she pulled off, near wouldn't let her talk a word to me. Like a mama cat. Barely wanted me to know what to call her.” Suspicion hit, then. “Why?”

The four Killjoys’ faces stayed blank.

Pony frowned. “Don’t you guys have Hope too?” They hadn’t known the kidling long at all, obviously, but even in the short time the sisters had hung around it’d been crystal enough that Hope wouldn’t leave the other girl for anything. Anything _._

Jewel looked sideways and spat on the ground. “No,” she said. “She… we found her a quarter dead. Alone. Never said a thing about someone else with her.”  
  


_Fuck._

Absorbing this, Show Pony turned their head.  
The motorbaby was still standing by the shack, running her hands over the walls of the building and studying the dust like she’d lost something precious in it. Now that they thought about it, it made cold sense— rumours had been flying around about _one_ Fabulous crew kiddo for a while, and Jet had said they had _a_ roadgoblin with them. Where would the crew have kept another kid in the car? Their heart sank right through to the dust at their feet.  
And maybe it had been even longer than that, they realized suddenly. The second time they’d met the sugarhead, that long hungover-ass morning outside Glimmer when they’d given her a boot-knife to take care of herself with, she'd been alone. Walked out into the field where there wasn't anything for miles alone. “Oh, shit,” they said. “Oh no.”

For a few seconds, no one made a sound.

Then Kobra coughed. “Explains why she hasn’t said much, at least,” he muttered, fiddling with his robo-glove. He meant, _now we know she’s grieving._ “That’s something.”

“Do you know her name, Pony?” Jewel asked, stepping forward. “If there’s somebody else out looking for her…”

They shook their head. “Negative. She wouldn’t say anything about it, and her sis didn’t spill, either.”

The girl had slid to a seat on the ground, hands wrapped around the edges of her knees, forehead resting on her folded arms. She was so _small._ Show Pony was too far away to see if her shoulders were shaking, but they didn’t doubt it.

“Why would you bring her here?” They asked the Killjoys.

It was Fun Ghoul who answered, calmly enough. “For the tunes,” he said. “And a check-over.”

“Details.”

“There was a scout deadeye that showed up in our diner today, and the motorbaby shot at it,” Ghoul replied in short order. He wiped his nose—a nervous habit, Pony knew. That boded the fuck well. “Killed it right down, Kobra double-tapped, but before it went out it said her ID into the comms. And motorbaby said they’d had her number for a while, when we told her.”

Show Pony didn’t move for a second, assimilating that information and all its under-frequencies. Then they nodded loud and clear.

“Plus we thought it’d be good for her to get out a little,” Jewel added. She shifted on her feet and wiped her forehead. The dye from her hair was sweating; red smears all down her jaw and neck. “We thought it might make the tyke talk more. She’s been totally mum since we brought her back with us.”

“When Jewel says ‘we’ she pretty much means ‘her’,” Ghoul snuck in like an asshole.

Pony would’ve laughed at that, but it was less funny when talking about a babyface being near-silent for weeks. “Nothing?” Show Pony said, incredulously. When they’d seen her, the little surgarspice hadn’t exactly been storytelling her voicebox wrecked, but she’d been polite, like deadeyes were expected to be _._ She’d said some things. Granted at the time both the roadbabies had been too new to know much better. (God, the poor thing.)

“Not at first.” Kobra was the one who spoke up this time. He put his hand into Jewel’s own to soften the recognition. “Motorbaby said nothing to nobody, at first. She’s talking a bit more now.”

“Not to me,” Jewel muttered.

“You haven’t hung out,” Kobra said, his tone turning from giving information to the slightly-warmer, rounded voice that people had holding insulated conversations in wide rooms. “Give the kid time.”

  
  


A loud crack sounded above them; all five Runners heads’ snapped toward the sky. Show Pony winced. A metric fuckton of clouds were gathering fast up there, and some of them just on the dangerous side of green.

“We should get to shelter,” Jewel said.

“Yeah,” Pony agreed. “Look, the Doc is in the shack. You all skitter on in, I’ll get the baby.”

Jewel looked back over at them, her eyes sharp. “You sure?” She wasn’t asking for Pony’s sake.

Show Pony barely held a sigh in. Patience was a virtue worth its weight in carbon, but it’d been a long day. They reminded themself that if any of the Fabulous crew thought somebody would be a problem, they didn’t spare them the time of day. Not after Goldenrod left. At least they knew it was a good sign that the killjoy was this protective over the kid. “ _She’s_ sure,” Pony replied pointedly. “She hugged me soon as saw me, remember? You think this roadbaby's the kind to hug people she doesn’t know?”

Jewel startled, then glared for a second, then wordlessly jerked her head towards the building and started walking. The others followed her inside.

  
  


After the heavy door slammed shut behind the four Fabulous ones, Pony skated over to the shivering mess of girl. The closer they got, the more they could hear her sniffling. It could break a joy's heart.

“Hey,” they said, stopping within two feet of her, giving her space to run if she felt like she had to. (Keeping her trapped-feeling wouldn't help anybody.) They knelt, wincing as they felt their tights rip a little more at the knees. “Hey, you.”

The girl looked up at Pony. Dust was getting stuck on the tear tracks down her face. Well, shit. “We’ve gotta go inside, okay?” They pointed up at the sky. “The others've scarpered already. It’s going to rain soon.” Acid rain more likely than not, if Didi’s weather intel was right.

“I miss her,” the kid mumbled, staring forward again. She hugged her skinny knees a little closer to her skinny chest.

“Oh, sugarhead.” Show Pony made a decision, and slowly put out a hand to hold onto her little shoulder. “I'm sorry.”

The girl tensed up but didn't pull away. After a second she even relaxed enough to put her head down onto her knees again; not crying, this time, just staying still.

It was a moment that she deserved to be longer, but another thunder crack _boom_ hit and shook dust from their clothes. Lightning scarred the landscape five seconds later. The wind picked up again.

Wordlessly, the girl shook Pony's hand off her shoulder and got onto her own feet.  
Pony stood up as well, looking away as she wiped her face with her sleeve.

  
  


The two of them hurried across the sand and inside the door of the WKIL station, side by side. She paused in the scrawny doorway, small wnoufh to stand just out of the way, so that Pony could flip up the doorstopper and slide together the three locks they used when the airwaves were active. The locks were mostly useless against serious force, but could at least give a few minutes warning if the security cams crapped out.

With the door closed, the small hallway settled into familiar half-light. A tower of old tech extended the doorway another foot, making a corner that blocked the other Runner’s and Didi’s broadcast set-up from view. Their voices carried unmistakable.  
The kid peered around the corner to see what she could see of the room, then pulled back. She looked up at Pony. “There was a song,” she near-whispered quickly. “A long—I don’t know when again, but it was from here. Or, him, anyway. It was his voice after it.”

She’d said it like it was a big idea. There was probably a reason. “Well yeah, motorbaby, we’ve got piles and piles of songs,” they answered, keeping their voice down to match hers. “What of it?”

“If—if I ask him, will he play it for me again?” Despite the still-clear tear tracks and slight shake, the motorbaby looked serious.

Pony felt a second spark of pride for the kid, surviving all this time. The answer was ‘yes’, but it was better to learn that on her own. Built trust and all. They smiled at her. “All we can do is ask, sugarhead.”

The girl nodded, then straightened her shoulders. She pulled a hand over her hair and flipped it, the way that Jewel did, like she was trying to echo the starshine’s confidence. “Let’s go, then,” she said gravely, squaring her little shoulders.

Pony held back a laugh. She might’ve not been with the Fabulous crew for too long, but she’d picked up some Fab habits well enough. Give the kid enough time and she’d be tight as dirt in pavement-cracks with all of them, Pony thought, with a good feeling in their heart.

  
“Hey, can you do?” Didi called around the corner, because of course he’d been hearing them the whole time. He meant it in answer to the girl’s “Let’s go”, and had a bit of a laugh in his voice. “Fabulous motorbaby. I’ve just been told about you.”

Pony felt a swell of love in their chest for the man, hearing that. He could sound like a threat or a lullaby, or everybody’s friendly gravel-throated uncle when he twigged it’d help someone, and he was doing the last one now.  
The youngling still looked nervous, so they smiled down at her gently, waving her forwards.

Bravely, she stepped around the spare monitors pile and into the recording studio, ready to talk to the notorious radio pirate DJ, Dr. Death-Defying.

Pony double-checked the locks on the outside door, rubbed their face, and skated in quiet as they could behind her. Whatever was going down now, they wanted to know.

  
-


End file.
